


Dragon Age Reddit Prompts Year 4

by SerenityFalconNormandy



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dreamers (Dragon Age), F/M, The Fade, The Wounded Coast, plans within plans
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26344621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenityFalconNormandy/pseuds/SerenityFalconNormandy
Summary: The fourth collection of one-shots written based on the Dragon Age Reddit's Weekly Writing Prompts thread. Slight AU/canon divergence for pretty much all of the pairings, because my headcanon will not be denied!Edited for grammar, content, and other annoyances with the help of the wonderful IncreasingLight.
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas, Fenris/Female Hawke
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. New Dreams (Fen + Solas)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Dreams
> 
> Solas discovers some new dreams while he walks the Fade.

In all his time on Thedas, before and after the Veil, Solas had loved observing dreams. Standing in the Fade, watching the joys and sorrows of existence play out as tableaus, was a wonder that he would never tire of. Some were plain, some elaborate, some even interactive, but all were treasures that would never be repeated in quite the same way.

The two he was observing at the moment were simple, blurred splashes of color and bright light, muffled sounds, and scent. His children were dreaming. Long fingers brushed over his daughter’s bubble, not enough to intrude or change things, but it allowed him to experience what she was experiencing. It flooded through him, and tears flowed, so strong that he knew they would be running down his cheeks in the waking world.

_ Warm. High tones that represented Her, smells of food and happy things as she nursed. Deeper tones, the one who brought the swaying motion that helped her sleep, who smelled similar to Her. Safety. The rumble that was safe, the giant shadow that could block out almost all the light when it leaned over her, and the brightly colored one who placed softness against her skin. Comfort. The small, bouncing one who was crowned with brightness and moved other bright things over her as she laid on her back. Joy. Resting next to Him, as Her sounds washed over them in a rhythm. Love. _

The scent of elfroot and embrium was still strong around him as he pulled away. Iron Bull and Dorian he could recognize, the sounds his little Fenrevas didn’t recognize as language yet giving them away. Bull fussed over the tiny elf children like a tama, and Dorian brought exquisite baby clothes from Teviter to dress them in. Dagna took great joy in painting the toys Thom made for the children and coming to play with them. The other man he didn’t recognize, but from the way he spoke to Fen, it sounded like he was her father. 

And then there was Fen. His vhenan was the best mother to their children, taking all the time she had to sing to them and spend time with them. He did not deserve her himself, but thanked the twist of fate that made her a mother. The love their daughter felt for her mother made him ache to be with them. Fenenasalin’s dream was similar to his sister’s. 

Solas couldn’t stop himself from brushing his fingers over both bubbles, willing both of his children to feel the love he felt for them. He jumped when there was a delicate, curious brushing against his fingertips. Tiny baby fingers reached through each bubble and gripped his index fingers, and he fell to his knees. Fen had mentioned once, after Wycome, that the Dalish had not had any Dreamers in their ranks in over two hundred years. At a stroke, she had brought two into the world. 

A shudder of emotion racked him as he ran his thumb over the tiny, perfect hands gripping his fingers, then leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on them, one after the other. He spoke in Elvhen, so they would know the language. “My dear children. You are so precious to me, along with your mother. Please understand that I am trying to save this world for you, to undo a terrible mistake. I love you both, and when I have done what I must do, I will join you and your mother.”

He paused, taking a moment to swallow down the lump in his throat. “I will always be with you in your dreams. When you are old enough, I will teach you how to control what you are doing right now, and help you protect yourselves from those that would harm you.”

His spies had already heard whispers of plots to assassinate Fen and the children, name them martyrs for the Chantry and then undo all the good Fen had done for the People. If the wrong people found out that his children were Dreamers, they might be taken away from Fen, or worse. Another shudder wracked through him at the thought of the tiny, perfect little babies gripping his fingers becoming blank-faced, emotionless Tranquil, even before they learned to toddle.

From Fenrevas, an echo of hunger came through. She would be waking soon, needing to be fed. Solas watched as the little hand faded and the bubble of his daughter’s dream began to shrink. In her half-dreaming state, he heard Fen’s voice, “Good morning, my da’Revas! Let’s get you taken care of before your brother wakes up, hmm?”

How he ached to be with the three of them in truth, the loneliness and longing spiking when, just before Fenrevas fully woke, he heard Fen say, “You have your father’s eyes, da’len.”

Solas knelt next to Fenenasalin’s dream bubble, pressing another kiss to his son’s tiny fingers. “Go, join your Mamae and sister. I love you, and them.”

The fingers faded and the bubble shrank away.

He was alone in the Fadescape again, the dreams of those in Skyhold surrounding him.

But, he was still alone. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Spark (Marian + Fenris)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: You look like you’ve been to the Void and back.
> 
> Varric visits Marian with a request, and receives a request in return.

Varric gave Bodhan a jaunty salute as he entered the Amell estate, smiling to himself as the other dwarf gave him a nod before going back to pointing out amounts in the cookbook spread across Orana’s lap, helping her do the math to increase quantities for doubling the recipe. The little beads on the abacus in her hands clicked gently as she slid them back and forth, calculating the sums and blushing at Bodhan’s praise when she worked it out correctly. 

Hawke had been serious about making sure both of the Tevinter elves in her life would be able to shift for themselves if they ever parted ways. Broody was borrowing books from him at an alarming rate, and Orana wouldn’t need Bodhan to shop with her at all soon enough. Between that and all the sums she’d quietly donated to Merrill to assist in cleaning up and improving the Alienage, he’d say Marian was set on doing what she could to improve Kirkwall from the ground up. Even the humans couldn’t complain because, shithole that Darktown was, somehow a budget had been found for installing drainage and clearing out the worst of the muck and filth. Blondie wasn’t the only one standing between the city and a massive outbreak of plague anymore.

His face twisted at the reminder of the Grey Warden mage and the reason why he was even at the estate right then. Tramping up the stairs to the library, Varric drew in a breath for a cheery greeting that died as soon as he spotted her.

Draped across her armchair, Marian had her head tilted back and a kerchief pressed to her face. Whatever had happened, she’d changed into her house robe and leggings. “You look like you’ve been to the Void and back, Tumbles.”

In slightly nasal tones, she said, “Just clearing out gangs of Lowtown for Aveline. Again. Might as well be the Void.”

Varric grimaced. Troubles on top of troubles, and he was here to add more to her plate. “Can’t argue with that. I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to know that Blondie is asking for you to come visit, on top of everything. He has something he wants to do.”

Hawke groaned and her shoulders hunched forward.. “Tonight?”

“Nah, tomorrow.”

“Oh, thank the Maker.”    
  


He let out a laugh at that, watching her re-sprawl in the chair. “Don’t sound so eager to see him, Tumbles, you’ll make Broody jealous.”

She let out another laugh, and pulled the kerchief away from her face, revealing the dark circles under her eyes and the last smears of a bloody nose. “Even with all the cleanup, Fenris won’t let me go near Darktown without him. I don’t think I have anything to worry about in any case.”

Swinging so she was sitting properly in the chair, Marian leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “I’m so tired right now, I’d probably fall down the stairs and break my neck. Glad you’re here, though.”

“Oh? Not going to chase me off so you can get some rest?”

“Never you worry, that’s coming. I have a favor to ask first.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Hush, you.” Going silent, Varric thought she’d nodded off before she let out a sigh that moved her entire torso. “I need for you to figure out how to get me an audience with the Divine.”

“I beg your pardon? What?”

“Divine Justinia, I need an audience with her.”

Varric opened and closed his mouth a few times, brain buzzing. “Why?”

“You see how things are here. With Meredith. With Grand fucking Cleric Elthina. Elthina won’t  _ do  _ anything about Meredith. I don’t know if she’s scared or just doesn’t care. So I figure, why faff around waiting for her to do something when I know she won’t? Much as I’d rather not be, I’m an Amell, and I earned the title of Champion of Kirkwall. I’ll just,” she gestured with her hands, “go over their heads and appeal to Justinia. She at least doesn’t think all mages are bogeymen, if her support for Gwyneth Surana is anything to go by.”

He sat down on a footstool. “You really think Meredith will let you go? All the ships dock at the Gallows, she’ll see if you’re on a ship to Val Royeaux or Ferelden. Might even take it out on the mages.”

Marian ran her hand over her face. “Then I will need your help to get out of Kirkwall without her noticing. I don’t know, put me in a crate and smuggle me onboard or something?”

“And if someone comes calling while you’re away?”

“Put out that I’m ill?”

“Junior will come pounding on the door like he has every other time you’ve been sick, and then she’ll know when he finds out you’re not here.”

“Blast it.” 

Something about the way her shoulders slumped, and the way Marian pulled her knees up to her chest, made her seem smaller and more vulnerable than Varric could ever remember her being. A bubble of anger sat hot in his chest, and he started picking through the threads he’d need to untangle. 

“Can you give me time? I’d have to go through your cousin and King Alistair to do it, and it won’t be fast, but I think I can get it done.”

“Why them?”

“They know Sister Leliana better than we do. Sister Leliana, since I know you don’t listen to the criers, has been named the Left Hand for Divine Justinia.”

“Interesting choice.” She strummed her fingernails together, then sat forward, “Do it. Kirkwall is a gaatlok keg, we both know it. We still need to try.” Hawke stared into the fire, watching it snap and pop as the sap from the logs boiled over.

It would only take one spark to set off Kirkwall. What if they were too late? He stood up, “I’d better get started, then. And you’d better get some rest. Maybe an ice compress or something, too.”

“Yes, Mother.” Hawke gave him a faint smile, gingerly touching her tender nose. A quick flash of green between her fingers signaled she had used the one Heal she’d learned. 

Varric chuckled and ambled back down the stairs, going over the knot in his mind’s eye, starting to untangle threads. He did love a good puzzle. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Mercy (Marian + Fenris)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Maker, forgive us for the dozen or so extremely annoying bastards we're about to send to your side. It's them or us. I think You'll agree we made the right choice.
> 
> Marian and the Kirkwall crew find something on the Wounded Coast.

It was past time, Marian decided, to just burn down the entire Wounded Coast. She was tired of tromping up and down the cliffs after pirates, smugglers, mercenaries, and whomever else decided to drag themselves to those misbegotten shores. Loose wisps of hair that had struggled free of the braids Merrill had done for her that morning clung to her face and neck in the muggy summer heat. Still, trudging up the Coast was preferable to being stuck in Kirkwall, banging her head against Elthina’s wall of bloody, blighted inaction. Marian’s hands itched, the heat and the frustration boiling in her and leaving her spoiling for a fight. 

She wanted to be home at the estate in the cool of her library reading with Fenris, having tea with Merrill in the garden, or any of a dozen other things besides being a living, breathing barrier between the blighted Grand Cleric, Meredith, and the powerless people in the Circle and Kirkwall. Sebastian, Fenris, and Merrill trudged along behind her. Aveline, Anders, and Varric had gone up along the cliffs to see if the mercenaries they were after had gotten into the cave network. Marian scanned the sky, waiting for signs of a fireball streaking through the air - the agreed-upon signal that their targets had been sighted. 

Merrill’s fingers rested on her elbow, pulling Marian out of her grouchy musings. The Dalish woman tilted her head towards Sebastian, who had stopped and was inspecting the ground.

“Sebastian?” The whisper was low, the crashing of the waves would drown it out for anyone more than a few feet away from them. 

“They came this way. This soil here is disturbed, and some of the branches in these bushes are broken. They’re still welling up with sap.”

Marian unslung her staff, plucking against the Fade and summoning a fireball to life just across the Veil, ready to signal as soon as they found them. Sebastian made a noise in his throat, blue eyes blazing as he looked up from his inspections to Fenris.

“These aren’t mercenaries.”

He lifted an arm and pointed, showing the path they’d taken. Her gut twisted, knowing the next word before Sebastian spoke. 

“Slavers.”

Feeling her lip curl up in a silent snarl, Marian swung her gaze to Fenris. His markings were crackling, tiny flashes of lightning blue sparking as he snarled and pivoted, unsheathing his sword. With Danarius dead, she could be sure that the slavers weren’t here to draw Fenris out. Marian wondered for a moment if anyone had even bothered to make it known in the Imperium that the area around Kirkwall wasn’t safe for slavers. Maybe these were arrogant bastards who thought they were safe from whatever dangers there were to be had on the Coast. Or, more likely, they were greedy and ignored whatever warnings had made it back to Tevinter. 

Staying low, Sebastian led them forward, all of them flicking eyes back and forth for any sign of their prey. The lightning crackles were brighter and sharper as Fenris’s arms slowly began to dissolve into lyrium ghost specters. Merrill’s brows had drawn together, and tiny vines of raw Fade wound around her arms. Sebastian had an arrow knocked, ready to sweep his bow up at a moment’s notice.

Marian felt the Fade thrumming against her hand, the fireball-to-be clenched in her fist. She couldn’t punch Meredith and her lapdogs in their smug, sneering faces, so she’d take it all out on the slavers. The white plate on Sebastian’s gauntlet flashed in the sun, hand up in the signal to stop. He held up one finger, clenched his hand, then quickly switched between four and three fingers. Seventeen. Not bad odds, and they had the advantage of catching them off guard. 

Through the treeline above their heads, Marian spotted a fireball from the cliff above the clearing the slavers were camped in. One of their friends must have spotted the clearing from above. Reaching forward, she tapped on Sebastian’s shoulder, breathing out, “Did they see Anders’ fireball?”

With his free hand, he reached across to pat her hand where it rested. Two quick pats, no. 

“On my signal.” 

“Maker, guide my arrows, and forgive us the violence we do here.” Sebastian moved further back into cover.

“Really, Seb?” She flicked him an amused grin.

“What?”

“You could at least say something like, ‘Maker, forgive us for the dozen or so extremely annoying bastards we're about to send to your side. It's them or us. I think You'll agree we made the right choice’, you know?”

Sebastian let out a deep sigh and gestured for Marian to get on with things. 

Creeping forward, Marian took advantage of some larger bushes to get a sight line on the camp, watching as the people in the clearing laughed and prepared cages and shackles. She raised her hand, sending the fireball between the boughs above, scorching a few leaves but passing too quickly to set any aflame. It rocketed up, up, up above the trees before exploding with a roar that echoed into the Planasene and down the shore. Startled, the slavers dropped what they were doing and looked overhead to the ball of smoke and ash that was now drifting on the sea breeze. 

Stroking her fingers across the Fade, raw magic balling in her hand and above the gawking slavers’ heads, Marian gathered a Fist of the Maker. With a scream of rage, she slammed her fist into the soil. The air cracked and boomed as bodies were smashed into the dirt, some of them contorting as bones snapped under the force. The screams echoed and Fenris flickered into a blue wraith, flitting forward at one of the camp guards who had not been caught in the Fist and was staring at the chaos. The man never even had a chance to lift his sword before Fenris materialized and dispatched him with a single downward blow. 

Arrows began to fly, rhythmic thwips coming from Sebastian’s bow and Merrill vanished, the ground boiling and showing her path until she burst out of the ground at Fenris’s back. The soil below the slavers that were regaining their feet began to churn, like an earthquake and quicksand working in conjunction. Vines of Fade whipped up, yanking a few off their feet and dragging them, screaming, into the churning soil.

One managed to stand, and charged at Merrill, only to stumble and falter after two crossbow quarrels sprouted in his chest. He looked down at them, confused, before being slammed to the ground by a shield to the back, Aveline barreling along behind the wall of aurum. Fireballs whipped between the trees, and Anders rushed along the path Aveline had cleared. The quicksilver wash of his eyes scanned the field before sending Heals to both Fenris and Merrill, then joining the fray with fire and ice.

Marian grappled with a slaver that grabbed her from behind, trying to break their grip around her waist, keeping her arms pinned and unable to cast. Digging the heel of her boot into the other woman’s shin, she forced it down, earning herself a scream in the ear and a tighter band of pressure around her body. Rolling her head back and forth quickly, Marian realized the slaver wasn’t wearing a helmet. Dipping her head forward, she whipped it up and back, slamming the back of her skull into the woman’s nose, while inconveniently ringing her own bell. Immediately she was free, stumbling forward and whipping around, arms ready to cast, just in time to see both arrows and crossbow bolts knock the slaver backward and to the ground. 

Swinging her staff around, Marian clocked another slaver that was harrying Merrill in the head, sending them to join their fellows in the Void. Panting, sweat stinging her eyes and swiping at the loose strands that clung to her eyelashes, Marian surveyed the scene. Fenris had the only living slaver, a young man who couldn’t be more than twenty, by the throat.

“Mercy,” he choked out past the lyrium-lined fingers crushing his neck.

“Talk first,” Fenris snarled, “Why were you here?”

“Please-”

“You’d better talk, or we’ll just let him choke you where you stand.” Marian bared her teeth at them, feeling her crew draw up behind her, making for an intimidating tableau. 

“Rivaini caravan… coming from Ostwick.. Silk, spices-”

“Goods you could sell along with the people you took,” Aveline sneered.

Marian looked to Fenris. “What do we do?”

His chest was heaving, and he forced the slaver to his knees, leaning in and looming over him. “I could kill you right here.”

“Please, mercy!” He started crying and clawing desperately at Fenris’s wrist. “I only took this job to feed my sisters, please!”

A flash of uncertainty crossed Fenris’s face, then it hardened again. “Run back to your magisters. Do an honest job if you have mouths to feed. Warn the others that the only thing waiting here for them is death. If I see any of your ilk again, I will rip the hearts from their chests.”

He shoved the crying man away, then strode through the rest of the group. “We’re done here.”

Marian gaped at her elf’s retreating back before rushing to follow him. He had chosen mercy. 

  
  
  



End file.
